You Belong With Me
by Iffy Jr
Summary: Ron/Harry. "Ron's in love with his best friend. It's as simple as that. The problem is getting around his sister..." Song-themed. COMPLETE.


A/N: This is written in Ron's PoV about Harry and Ginny's dating during their sixth year, and also a bit of post-Hogwarts :) Also, it's only M for language and whatnot. I don't actually write out their having sex, but it is highly insinuated.

It's written with both the books and the movies in mind, so there will be things I've made up, things from the books, and then things from the movie (mostly from the movie, actually, because I've watched them more recent than read them).

For any of you reading this that have read my other story, "The Harold Song", this is written pretty different. Just a heads up.

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I wrote a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me". Don't like the song, don't read the story! I like it, though, so you should read it anyway :) Haha. Also, I cannot claim any of these characters. They are all the property of the beautiful J. K. Rowling, my Queen 3

**Summary**: Ron/Harry. "Ron's in love with his best friend. It's as simple as that. The problem is getting around his sister..." Song-themed. COMPLETE.

**Pairing**: Rarry  
**Status**: Complete  
**Rating**: M  
**Warning**: dead baby/holocaust/racist jokes (refer to the _end_ A/N's for my opinions on those), occasional cussing, and that's about all I can think of. There's no sex, but there is suggestions to its happenings and the scene that leads up to it.

* * *

_You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset  
She's goin' off about something that you said  
'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do..._

"No, no, listen, I have the best joke ever," Harry says into the Muggle cell phone, talking to his girlfriend. He got one over the summer before sixth year, and since he was able to buy them in wizard stores he also bought three more. One for Hermione, one for Ginny, and one for me. That way we would always be in touch.

"Harry, your jokes are stupid," Ginny says into the phone with a snort.

"No, really, it's funny! I swear!"

I scoot closer to Harry, my cell phone sitting unused in my pocket, because I want to be sure to hear every bit of the joke.

Ginny sighs happily. "Oh, alright, what is it?"

Harry's practically leaping up and down on the bed, and I can't help but let my eyes dart back and forth from his brilliant smile to his sparkling green eyes.

"Okay, okay," Harry says, turning the phone on speaker. He always does when he's with me and is about to say something funny so that whomever he's talking to can hear the laughter that ensues from the both of us. "What did the alien say to the plant?"

Ginny sighs less happily than she did just a moment ago. "I don't know, what?"

"Take me to your _weeder_!"

He bursts into laughter, and I follow suit as soon as I get the joke. Honestly, the things he brings along to Hogwarts are great. We're crying a few seconds later, leaning against each other for support, which really doesn't work very well since neither of us is giving it to the other.

When we're done wiping away our tears Harry picks up the phone where he had dropped it and holds it between us. "See?" he says, his smile still bright. "I told you it was funny."

"Harry, that was stupid," Ginny says, no sign of happiness in her voice. "That's the kind of joke you tell a five year old."

Harry's smile thins. "What, come on, you didn't even laugh a little bit?"

"No. No, I did not."

He purses his lips. "Alright, let me try one more time. What's the difference between a car and a pile of dead babies?"

"Harry, you know how I feel about dead baby jokes!"

"No, no, listen to the answer!"

She sighs harsher. "What's the difference, _Harry_?"

"There's not a car in my garage!"

I get this one faster, so I burst into laughter at the same time that Harry does. We don't use each other for support this time; I lean back on my hands and he curls up on his back. His head is thrown back so his neck is exposed, and if I weren't laughing so hard I'd just be staring at it. He's not wearing a shirt, and his entire chest is shaking, causing the muscles in his abs to flex. That really does get me to stare.

"Harry!" Ginny yells above his quieting laughter, causing him to stop right there. "That's disgusting!"

"Fuck you that was funny!" Harry says loudly into the phone receiver, a small smile still sketched onto his face.

"Don't you _dare_ cuss at me!" Ginny screeches.

Harry's smile is gone in a millisecond, and he instantly looks scared. I frown at his facial expression. "No, Ginny, I didn't mean it that way! I meant it, like, I mean..."

"Trailing off, are you?" Ginny says angrily. I can just picture her right now; she was probably sitting, but as soon as Harry swore she jumped up, nearly crushing the phone in her hand or at least throwing it at the opposite wall. "So you _did_ mean it!"

"No!" Harry says, his face showing that he's scrambling for something else to say. "I just don't know how else to explain it! You know what I mean, don't you, Ron?"

As a matter of fact, I do. "Yeah!" I say to the phone. "It was more like a joke, Gin. Don't take it personally; he and I do it all the time."

"Bollocks," she growls. "Cuss at me one more time, _Harry Potter_, and I'll hit you."

There's a small click, and then the dead, baritone sound that signals we've been hung up on.

"You hit me _anyway_," Harry mutters darkly, ending his call before throwing the phone at the pillow.

"Don't worry about it, mate," I say, patting him on the back. "She's a girl. They're offended easily."

"Yeah," Harry says, sighing as he looks over at me. "At least I've got you to laugh at my jokes with me."

"Yeah," I say, faking a smile. "Just for the jokes."

* * *

_I'm in my room it's a typical Tuesday night  
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like..._

"He's a real nowhere man..." Harry sings as he makes his and my bed.

"Sitting in his nowhere land..." I sing as I sweep up the floor.

"Making all his nowhere plans for nobody...!"

"Doesn't have a point of view..." I start on the single window, making it sparkle in the afternoon sun.

"Knows not where he's going to..."

"Nowhere man's a bit like you and I...!"

"Nowhere man, please listen..." Harry starts putting his recently-cleaned-by-the-house-elf clothes into his trunk.

"You don't know what you're missin'..."

But suddenly the door bangs open, and in walks Ginny, looking particularly annoyed. "As a matter of fact," she says loudly and angrily, using her wand to turn off Harry's Muggle music player, "I know _exactly_ what I'm missing! Your terrible voices! Sweet Merlin, Harry, you sound like a dying rat. The entire common room has been debating whether or not to come up here and shut you up since you turned on that _horrible_ Muggle music!"

"Hey," Harry and I say together, frowning deeply, though my eyes are also narrowed. "We're not _that_ bad."

"Oh yes you are," Ginny says, glaring at Harry specifically. "And your music taste is even worse. I hate Muggle music."

"I like the Beatles!" Harry protests, putting his hands into fists and putting them on his hips. "That was one of my favorite songs by them!"

"Yes, that's lovely. Not to mention, Harry, they're _old_. What are they from, two-thousand-_one_?"

Harry frowns. "They're from the sixties."

Ginny all but gasps. "Not even from the twenty-first century?! Yuck! You should really start listening to something good, Harry, or it's going to be a nightmare picking our wedding songs." She suddenly smiles brightly. "Speaking of which, I have the perfect song to be 'our song'!"

Harry's nose scrunches up unhappily. (I frown, too, but they don't know what the real reason is. Ginny thinks I act unhappy whenever talking about their relationship because I can't get over the fact that my best friend is dating my sister, and Harry thinks it's because I'm jealous that I don't have a relationship of my own. They're both right, in a sense, but it's not the main reason that I'm always unhappy about the whole thing...) "What is it?"

"'A Bushel of Butterflies' by the Lilac Roses!" Ginny gushes.

Harry groans. "Merlin, not a chance will that be it. That song is so over_played_. Can't we be a bit more _original_?"

She crosses her arms. "Fine. How about 'Melting Candlesticks' by the Pudu Slippers?"

Ron has to hold back a laugh as Harry forces himself not to gag. "Gods, no," he says. "I hate them more than anything but country music. You know I listen to whatever Dudley listens to, and he does not listen to _country_ or _chick bands_. How about Counting Fireplaces, or at _least_ Indian Mieer Glass…"

Ginny grimaces. "Uh, no, those are terrible ideas. Can't we do something better?"

"Those _are_ better!"

"No, they're horrible!"

"No, _yours_ are horrible!"

Ginny crosses her arms. "I don't_ think_ so. My music taste is the best out of anyone in the entire castle. Yours is _old_ and _forgotten_."

"At least it's not overplayed! Gods, I am so sick of all the music people are playing lately! I've heard the Weird Sisters new song at least thirty times in the last three days, and it makes me sick!"

"I happen to like their new song, thank you very much," Ginny snaps.

"You're very welcome!"

Before Ginny can get anything else out of her mouth, I yell at both of them to shut up. "Why do you even need a song?" I ask grumpily. "It's stupid."

"I agree with Ron," Harry says, crossing his arms. "Now leave us alone to our cleaning. We're trying to help out the house elves."

"They'll just do it over," Ginny grumbles, turning around to stomp out of the room. She mumbles to herself about old things until she slams the door behind her and Harry and I can't hear her anymore.

"I don't know what her problem is," Harry mutters, going back to putting his clothes away. "There's nothing wrong with my music."

"_Our_ music," I say, making it known that I agree wholeheartedly.

He doesn't notice. He just continues to mutter angrily to himself. I sigh, wishing that I knew how to make him feel better when it comes to people bashing the Beatles (it surprised me passed anything, but it's happened to be Dudley's favorite band since he was eight). But I never have.

* * *

_And she'll never know you're story like I do..._

I remember when we first met. You didn't have a clue how anything worked. You asked what a Chocolate Frog Card was, for Merlin's sake. You were the most adorable thing in the world, then. I didn't like you then like I do now, but thinking back on it...I wish I did. Maybe I could have done something about it.

And that time you took me to the Mirror of Erised... I remember the look on your face when you told me that you saw your parents. You love your parents. You hear your mother screaming when the dementors are around, and both of them are still what you would see in the mirror. Ginny will never comprehend that. I was too young to understand what it meant for you myself, but I'd give a lot to go back right now and hold your younger self while you just stayed night after night sitting in front of it. I didn't want to go with you then because I needed to sleep. Now I hardly get any sleep at all; I'm too busy watching over you, making sure that you stay safe. Remember in fifth year when you had the dream about my dad, and you woke up, and I was already awake? I didn't wake you up because it might have been an important dream. I've had important nightmares before, and Fred and George have wakened me up in the middle of them... I gave George a black eye. Aside from the fact that I got beat up afterwards, it was hilarious. It hurts to see you gasping and grasping at the bed sheets, but I knew that if I woke you up you wouldn't tell me what the dream was anyway, so I might as well just let it finish.

I know what they're about anyway, though. You have a lot of dreams about your parents. You talk in your sleep. You call out their names in your sleep, and on the rarest of occasions you cry in your sleep. Those ones I wake you up; those one's I just can't stand... You call for Cedric, too, and Sirius. You called for me one time, though I'm not sure why, since I'm obviously not dead. If I knew how to use it I would contemplate the Legilimens spell...but I don't think I could do that even if I did know it. I know you well enough to know that you don't like sharing things about your feelings unless they involve Vold—You-Know-Who. (I'm sorry, I still can't say it.) Ginny's never figured that out yet. She still asks you about your dreams, and she still asks how you are between every class. If she were a brother I'd hit her upside the head.

I remember in second year, when you went into the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny. I didn't like you the same way I do now then, either, but I know that that was the moment that Ginny would stop at nothing to have you. She's been obsessed with you since the beginning of time, and I doubt she's going to stop being so obsessed anytime soon. Sure, she treats you like crap, but she really does like you. She doesn't like you like I like you, though... I wish you could see that. I know you didn't care for her at all then; you saved her because it's in your blood to save people. Ginny's an idiot, though, because she still thinks that you did it because you liked her then, too. She doesn't know you at all.

Third year was when you and Hermione became better friends. Sure, you and I were still great friends, but you two hung out more. You did so many things just the two of you, and it was only then that I was jealous of her. You were always so admiring of her smarts, and you loved her to death after she punched Malfoy. And then you and she went off with the Time Turner...sure, I couldn't have gone with you anyway, but you didn't even want to explain it to me. It was more of a joke, but you have no idea how much that hurt. I'm glad you told me all about it later. I was going to go insane if you didn't. I knew you didn't like her at all, because the kinds of smiles you gave her weren't the right kind for that...but it still hurt.

Fourth year was pretty bad, too. Hermione wasn't mad at you at all, so I was mad because I thought that you told her and not me. We were best friends, so I just assumed you would have told me. It wasn't until later that Hermione finally got it through my thick skull that you hadn't ever told her anything, plus the fact that there's no way you could have entered yourself anyway—even she couldn't figure out a way, so there's no way you could (no offence, but you can't deny it, she's smarter than both of us combined). I never told you all of that, did I? I just told you that I realized you'd be insane to enter yourself. I guess I could have told you that. I was just afraid you would have still been mad at me. Before she got it through my head, though, there was that whole thing that Rita Skeeter wrote about your being a couple. I knew it wasn't true, but I couldn't help thinking that maybe you two had a bit more than friendship going on. I would have gone down with Hermione to the tent when Skeeter got that picture of you two...I was just still mad at you, so I didn't. Ginny thinks that's true, you know. You and Hermione being something that year. She's so dimwitted it sickens me; I can't believe she even reads _The Daily Prophet_. At least Hermione reads it to hate it.

Fifth year was the worst year. You did everything with everyone but me. You protested most to Hermione about not telling Dumbledore about Umbridge's detention quill, you talked to her about Dumbledore's Army, and she only brought you to Grawp when Umbridge caught us—sure, it would have been hard to bring me, but you didn't even try. You hung around with Fred and George a lot more, too, always helping them out with the whole Weasley's Wizard Wheezes business. You went to visit Hagrid by yourself, and you were always walking around with Luna. The worst thing, though, was your relationship with Cho. She was using you, Harry, just because she wanted to talk about Cedric! Could you not see that? I suppose you did when you went to that cushy, ugly, romantic teashop in Hogsmede... I just wish you had finally given up on her. She didn't know you any better than Ginny knows you now. You were like a fling to her. Does Ginny even know Cho was your first kiss? I saw you looking at her when everybody was leaving after the meeting. I didn't want to leave, but I knew that I couldn't hold you back like that. When you came into the common room it was written all over your face; I think I even saw it before Hermione did. I wanted to vomit.

Ginny still doesn't know you. She doesn't know about any of our adventures in first year, and she doesn't know what you sacrificed for her in second year because she was fast asleep and she's never asked about it. She doesn't understand what you lost in third year when Sirius had to leave (I understand and I wasn't even _there_), and she doesn't understand what you saw in fourth year. You saw the death of a rival and friend, and you saw the rebirth of an enemy, and you saw the ghosts of your parents. It was the first time you had ever been able to talk to them, and you couldn't even talk about anything that you wanted to. You could only run.

She doesn't know the things that you went through at the beginning of the year, and she was too dead set on impressing you to understand what happened even when she was standing right beside you. You lost your godfather, and Voldemort _possessed_ you. She told me that summer that she never liked Sirius anyway; she wasn't happy that he was dead, but she didn't care very much either. I didn't care that she was a girl then...I stupefied her backwards into her bedroom. (You have no idea how badly I paid for it later. She's really good at curses.)

Not much has happened, this year. You've just been following Malfoy around everywhere (I can admit that I'm not jealous of that at all...it's just weird).

But now you're with Ginny, and that I'm very jealous of that. I mean, honestly, she's my sister! It's true that I can't get over her dating my best friend...not to mention she'd gone out with nearly every boy in our year, plus some outside of it. She even went with Neville to the Yule Ball just because she wasn't old enough to go with somebody else! That's just rude.

I know you so much better than she knows you, Harry. She'll never understand what you've been through and what you still need to go through. I understand it. Sometimes it doesn't seem like I do, but I really do. And I want to tell you that, but I know that if I do you'll ask why I'm telling you, and I don't want to tell you why I would be...

I love you, Harry. Don't you get that?

* * *

_But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts  
She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers  
Dreamin' bout the day when you wake up and find  
That what you're lookin' for has been here the whole time..._

"I cannot _believe_ they brought in cheerleaders," Hermione all but growls, taking a seat beside Luna in the Quidditch stands (she hadn't liked Luna at first, but now she's perfectly alright with the younger girl). It's a Ravenclaw versus Slytherin game, so Luna has on her eagle-hat. All of the Houses cheer teams our out, and all of them but Slytherin are cheering for Ravenclaw. "Honestly, you'd think there was _enough_ reason for girls to dress so appalling."

"I know," I say, sitting down beside her, noticing her long pants and turtleneck covering up nearly every inch of her skin. Sure, it's cold out, but I'm just in my Gryffindor Quidditch Team t-shirt. Neville is sitting beside Luna, and Fred and George (here at the Hogwarts grounds for a visit) sit beside me. "I thought Ginny's skirts were short _before_ she joined the Gryffindor Cheer Squad. At least she doesn't get to be on it when it's a Gryffindor game."

Hermione's jaw drops. "_Ginny_ joined?" She scans the group of five girls stretching down on the pitch, and she stops looking when she catches sight of flaming red hair. "That little _tramp_! Doesn't she get _enough_ looks in her Quidditch robes?"

"Careful, Hermione," Fred says, leaning around me.

"That's our sister you're talking about," George adds.

"Though you can't disagree with her," I say with a snort. "I can practically see her arse from here."

"At least we're not _looking_ at it," the twins say together.

I blush. No, I was not looking at my own sister's backside. Aside from the fact that she's my sister, meaning that she's a girl and _related_ to me, she's not attractive to me anyway.

"She's not even that good looking," Hermione continues, speaking my thoughts. "I don't know what Harry sees in her."

"I do," somebody says behind us.

We turn around to see Dean and Seamus sitting behind us, Dean's arms crossed tightly.

Hermione reddens slightly. "Oh, sorry, Dean. I didn't see you back there."

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but at that precise moment Harry shows up, flying up to our front row seat on his broom. So Dean rolls his eyes and we turn away from him.

"Hey, guys," he says with a bright smile. "Great day for flying, isn't it? Too bad we're not playing. Though I can't say I mind the view." He looks down at Ginny with a stupid smile, and then turns back to us. When he sees all of our faces (probably Dean's, too) he coughs awkwardly. "Uh, sorry. Would somebody scoot over for me? I'm going to be in people's way if I stay here."

Hermione and I automatically spread apart, and Harry lands between us, storing his broom at our feet.

"You can't tell me you _approve_ of the outfits, Harry," Hermione says unhappily behind him.

"Well I can't tell you I _disapprove_ of them," he says, leaning forward so that he can see the cheer members better.

Hermione narrows her eyes. "What, you're perfectly alright with every _other_ boy staring at her as well?"

At this, Harry frowns. "Well, no, you do have a point there... But I'm not going to tell her to quite. Just because she's my girlfriend doesn't mean I can tell her how to dres—"

"She certainly tells _you_ how to," I mutter, and Fred elbows me.

"—and besides, I like her legs. They're hard to see from here, but as soon as they bring in the magic carpets it'll be a lot better."

Hermione rolls her eyes and huffs her dissatisfaction, but says no more on the subject. I have plenty more to say on the subject, but I force myself to keep quiet as well by biting down on my tongue.

Fred elbows me again.

"What?" I snap at him in a whisper.

Both he and George stick their tongues out at me, and I give them the look you give at somebody who hates you for absolutely no reason at all.

"You'd be a terrible secret keeper, Ronald," George whispers.

I don't put my look away. "What?"

"We're not stupid," Fred adds.

"Yeah, we can see right through you."

"See what?"

They roll their eyes.

"And Hermione said our _aging potion_ was dimwitted," Fred says.

"And pretending that it wasn't, you're being the pathetically dimwitted one right now."

"We see right through you, Ron," they say together.

"See what?" I ask again, starting to catch on.

"We're your brothers!" they say a bit louder. "Stop trying to keep secrets from us!"

"You found out what all of my secrets are months ago," I mutter, turning away from them. "Why would I be keeping another one?"

"What did you say, Ron?" Harry asks beside me, turning from a conversation with Luna.

"Uh, nothing," I say a bit too fast. "Talking to the twins."

"Oh, okay." He turns back to the Ravenclaw girl.

Fred and George snicker beside me, and I do my best to keep from punching both of their faces in. It's not that I'd feel bad...they'd just whoop me as soon as I started anything.

The match starts, and up float the cheerleaders on individual magic carpets, staying far out of the way of the Quidditch players. Harry catches Ginny's eye and waves at her, and Ginny blows him a kiss. I hear Dean grumble to Seamus behind us, and I resist the urge to turn around a grumble with them.

We're halfway through the match before I realize I haven't got a clue what's happened because I've been staring at Harry the entire time. The only reason I stopped is because Fred elbowed me again, but instead of looking at them I look straight forward again with pursed lips.

Of course they know. How couldn't they? My liking Harry is the most bloody obvious thing about me. How could _anybody_ not realize it? He's just so perfect...he's got his faults, sure, but that's what makes him Harry. If he were all around perfect he'd be no fun to be with, because then I'd be a complete arse around him. I'm already a complete idiot, and his not being one at all would make me feel horrible whenever I was around him. Hermione and I are the only ones that are happy about being friends with Harry and all of his faults. We both know that Hermione likes Fred, but Harry doesn't know that he happens to be the one that _I_ like...

I wish he knew it. That way I would know if us being something is ever going to be possible. He doesn't, though, so I'm stuck here without having a clue about it. And people wonder why I'm grumpy for no apparent reason... Ugh.

I realize I've unconsciously crossed my arms, so I quick uncross them and set my hands on the part of the bench beside me. I touch something warm, and I look down to see that I've set my hand right on top of Harry's. He doesn't even notice, though. He's too busy watching the game.

So I leave it there, letting my head hang so nobody can see my closed eyes.

You know you're a pathetic male when you can't get enough of having two entire fingers on top of somebody's hand.

Harry eventually pulls his hand away from me to cheer that a Ravenclaw's scored a goal, so I snap my head back up and set my folded hands into my lap.

I hope he realizes that Ginny's not right for him quicker. I know what he needs. Sometimes I just want to jump up and down in front of him saying, "It's me! Me, Harry! I'm the one you need! Just me!" But of course I don't, and I'll bet my life that I never will.

So I'll just spend the rest of my days wishing. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?

Fred elbows me again, and I glare over at him and George.

"You'll have to tell him some day," they say together.

I sigh and turn away from them. "Right," I mutter. "But today is not that day."

* * *

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you  
Been here all along so why can't you see  
You belong with me  
You belong with me..._

I was the first friend you ever had, you know. You met Hagrid first, and then you got Hedwig, and then you met Malfoy. Sure, Hagrid's your favorite professor, and Hedwig's your pet (and Malfoy doesn't even count)...but I'm you're _best friend_. I've been with you since the beginning, and I'll stick with you until the very end.

Ginny's not right for you. She wants to change you; I can see it in her eyes. She likes you, but she wants to make you better. She can't make you any better, though. You're as good as you're going to get. In fact, I think you're perfect.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: she'll never understand you. Hermione and I are the only ones that can, and you need to realize that. Hermione's your friend, and I'm perfect for you. We'll get you through the day, and I alone will get you through the night. I have since the beginning of school, haven't I? Plus the nights you're over at the Burrow. I'm sure I can keep doing it.

You don't belong with her. You belong with me. Don't you see that? Don't you get that? I love you, Harry. I don't want to spend the rest of my days just wishing. I used to think there was nothing wrong with that, but now I see that there's everything wrong with it.

I love you, Harry. Won't you love me back?

* * *

_Walkin' the streets with you and your worn out jeans  
I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be  
Laughin' on a park bench, thinkin' to myself  
"Hey isn't this easy?"..._

"Where's Ginny?" I ask as Harry and I leave the castle for our weekend trip to Hogsmede. It's the middle of December, so we're bundled up nice and tight. Harry and I are in the regular Gryffindor-colored gloves and scarves, but Harry's added a new hat with a red jingle bell on the top. You can hear him from a mile away, but he really looks quite good in it.

"Uh, she's with her friends," Harry mumbles, shoving his gloves hands into his pockets.

I tilt my head at him. "Friends? What do you mean? She doesn't hang out with anybody besides us and Luna."

Harry sighs. "That's just the thing. She's started to hang out with people in her own year. I asked her if I could come with her, and she said no. When I asked her why she told me it was because she knew I would bring _you_ with me. Naturally, I wasn't going to ditch my best friend to hang out with a bunch of annoying girls."

My heart soars at the beginning of his sentence, but it drops as soon as he says why.

"Yeah," I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets as well. "Gotta love those annoying girls."

Hermione's not with us because she's studying for a test two weeks away, so after Harry and I have finished shopping for Christmas presents (excluding our visit to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; we don't go there until the end because we know we'll spend all of our time talking to the twins), we grab a mug of butterbeer to go and sit out on a bench in a relatively deserted part of down. We have to wipe the snow off of it before we sit down, and even then we feel its cold sting through our jeans.

"Wow," Harry says, holding his mug out to me. "It's starting to freeze."

I look into his, and it is indeed nearly frozen.

We laugh, and then take a look at mine.

"I'll trade you," I say when we see that mine's still perfectly liquidated. "I'm not very thirsty anyway."

"Naw, come on, Ron, you paid good money for that," Harry says, laughing me away.

I grab his mug and hand him mine before he can protest any further, and he rolls his eyes—but he does drink mine, so I set his mug down on the opposite side of us. "I'm going to scoot closer to you so I don't knock that off," I say, doing so.

He laughs. "Like it would break anyway. It's too frozen to do that."

I grin. "Want to hear a racist joke?"

"Yeah, of course I would," Harry says, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

We both automatically look around for Dean before I say anything.

"Alright," I say, "What do you call a black guy flying a plane?"

Harry thinks about it for at least ten seconds. "I don't know, what?"

"The pilot, you racist!" I yell.

We both burst into laughter, leaning against the back of the bench for support.

A couple walks past us, giving us odd looks, but we ignore them—until they look away from us, then we both stick our tongues out at them.

"We're mature sixth years, I swear," I say, snorting.

Harry chuckles. "How like first years, we are. Hey, I have a joke, too. It's about the Holocaust, though. Are you okay with those?"

"I think I'll be okay with the Holocaust if I'm okay with dead baby jokes," I scoff.

He grins. "True. Okay, so, what's the difference between a pizza and a Jew?"

I've heard this one before, but I ask him what the difference is anyway.

"A pizza doesn't scream when you put it in the oven!" He bursts into laughter, and even though I've heard it before I can't help but laugh with him.

_This is how it's supposed to be_, I think. _None of this stupid stuff about Ginny and her annoying girl friends. I'd rather be with boys any day, and I can tell that Harry feels the same way._

* * *

_And you've got a smile that can light up this whole town  
I haven't seen in a while since she brought you down  
You say you're fine, I know you better than that  
Hey what ch'you doin' with a girl like that...?_

"Harry, can I ask you a question?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Sure."

"Why are you dating my sister?"

He purses his lips. "Because she's really powerful, with spells and with talking to people and stuff, you know? She's annoying, but that's because she's a girl. Hermione's annoying too, but I still love her to death. Ginny's to me what Hermione is to you."

My heart falls. "You think I like _Hermione_?" I ask.

He instantly looks awkwardly around us. "Uh, don't you...?"

I shake my head, my facial expression screaming _ew, ew, and ew_.

"Oh." He chews on the inside of his cheek. "Sorry about that. Who _do_ you like then?"

I shrug, but offer no oral answer.

So he continues on about Ginny: "She's really attractive, and we both like Quidditch. And she knows how to fight for herself. I'm sick of fighting for people, you know?"

I force myself not to frown. That all actually makes sense. "You don't seem very happy lately, though," I say, and it's not a lie.

He sighs. "You're her brother, you know how she can be."

I smirk. "If by how she can be you mean she fights _too hard_ for herself sometimes, then yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

He nods, but offers no returning smile.

"Harry, you're going to hate me for saying this...but I don't think you guys belong together."

He turns to me, a large frown plastered onto his face. "What do you mean?"

I sigh. "You guys are in that weird place between being too different from each other and too similar from each other. Relationships don't work that way. You need to either be the exact same or complete opposites, and you two aren't either of those."

Harry shakes his head in disagreement. "I think we're perfect for each other."

Ron holds back a snort. "How so?"

"I told you, Ron. I'm sick of fighting for people."

"See? If that's the only thing then you definitely shouldn't be dating her."

Harry rolls his eyes. "There's more than just that, Ron."

"Like _what_?"

He's kind of angry, now. "Like things I don't want to tell you."

"Yeah, because you can't think of anything."

"We're fine, Ron!" Harry all but screams, leaping up from his spot on the bench. "I'm fine!"

I look up at him sadly. "I didn't ask if you specifically were fine, Harry."

Harry averts his eyes, and with a sigh he sits back down a few inches closer to me and absentmindedly starts to play with the cloth of my robe. "Let's please talk about something else, alright?"

I force myself not to roll my eyes. "Sure thing, Harry. What did you get Hermione for Christmas again? I want to make sure we didn't get the same thing, since we were on opposite sides of the store from each other when I grabbed what I got for her."

Harry takes the subject change like a fish taking worm on a hook, and I do my best not to bring up anything that has to do with Ginny anymore. I love Harry's smile, but if my sister is going to be taking it away from everybody...well, I'll just have to do something about that, won't I?

* * *

_She wears high heels, I wear sneakers  
She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers  
Dreamin' bout the day when you wake up and find  
That what you're lookin' for has been here the whole time..._

"Oh my gods," Hermione growls, sitting down to watch the Slytherin VS. Hufflepuff game. "Are the cheerleaders in high heels? They're going to break their necks." She looks up into the sky and puts her hands together like she's going to pray. "Dear Merlin, let it only be Ginny. Amen."

I look down at her feet and see that she's in rubber boots with fur lining the inside. I'm just in sneakers I've had for the last two years (yay for being poor) even though there's snow all over the ground. I hate boots.

"It was probably Ginny's idea, too," Hermione continues in a growl. "How did we ever become _friends_ with her?"

Somebody coughs behind us, and we turn to see Dean and Seamus glaring at us a few rows up.

"Ugh," I say, rolling my eyes and looking back at the pitch. This match is going to be the exact same as the last one. Not to mention there's not even a slight chance of Hufflepuff beating Slytherin...

Putting my elbows on my knees and putting my chin in my hands, I set myself up for another horrible match.

* * *

_If you could see that I'm the one who understands you  
Been here all along so why can't you see  
You belong with me..._

_Standin' by you, waitin' at your back door  
All this time how could you not know baby  
You belong with me  
You belong with me..._

* * *

_Oh, I remember you drivin' to my house in the middle of the night  
I know what will make you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry  
I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams  
Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me..._

When the war was over, none of us had any idea what to do with our lives anymore. You, me, and Hermione had the sole purpose of surviving so that You-Know-Who wouldn't (I still can't say his name, no matter if he's gone or not). Now that's he's dead… Hermione got married to Neville (odd, but once I learned the background, they're really quite perfect for each other), and you got married to Ginny, and we all made sure we lived within talking-out-of-the-window distance from each other. Now, three years after the war, I still live alone—obviously. I never have been a fan of people.

**XxX**

_Knock, knock, knock._

I look up from my spot on the couch, cursing whoever's trying to say hello at this ungodly hour of two in the morning. I should probably be asleep myself, but it's the weekend, and I like staying up late when I can.

Grumbling unintelligibly to myself, I make my way over to the door.

"Who is it?" I call through the wood. (I really should have gotten a peephole in this thing.)

"It's Harry, idiot," Harry's voice calls back.

I unlock the door and yank it open, a bright smile on my face. "Sorry, mate. You never know in this neighborhood. Come in, come in."

Harry does, dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans cut off into shorts. I'm already dressed in the pajama bottoms that are too big for me and nothing else, considering that it's the first day of August. Harry was over the night before (Friday night) so we could celebrate his birthday. We invited George, Percy, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. George didn't bring Angelina because she's eight months pregnant, Percy didn't bring his wife of two weeks (that I still don't know the name of) because she's worse of a party pooper than he was when he worked at the Ministry, and Luna's still single right along with me. Ginny didn't come because she's on a business trip, which made my life better—except for the fact that Harry was down in the dumps half the night.

Harry and I sit down on the couch in front of my Muggle television set (these things are wicked, I can't deny it), and I summon us both a mug of coffee.

"What's up, mate?" I ask, refilling his glass after he downs the entire thing before I'm even done with the one-fourth of liquid left in my own cup. "Ginny not back yet?"

"Oh, she's back alright," he mutters darkly, and then he finishes another half of a glass.

"You know where the bathroom is," I say, referring to his excessive drinking as I refill it again. "What'd she do? Buy you deodorant for your birthday?"

He continues to glare into his mug. "Worse."

"Um, scar removing cream? Nose hair trimmers? A wrench?"

Harry stops glaring at his coffee to give me the kind of patronizing half smile he gives to people when he can't believe they just said something. "Okay, I think I'd rather get what I did get than nose hair trimmers."

I smirk. "Hey, just tryin' to help make everything seem better than it is. So what'd she get you?"

Harry goes back to glaring. "Nothing."

I blink at him. "Did you say nothing?"

"Yes."

"She didn't get you anything?"

"That's what I said, Ron."

"Did she…wow, um, did she explain why she didn't get you anything?"

"No," he growls. "She came in, kissed me on the cheek, and said she was going to bed because she was tried after her week out. I went in there ten minutes later to see if she was kidding and actually had something else in mind"—(I force myself not to gag)—"but she meant it. She was actually asleep." He sets down his coffee mug and sinks deeper into the couch. "Honestly, my own wife is gone for a week without seeing me and she just wants to sleep. The longest I've ever been gone is four days, and I make sure I bring something home for her, plus we end up staying up all night." (Still not gagging.) "We've only been married three years...aren't we supposed to still never get enough of each other?"

"Uh…" I cough. "I don't know, mate, I've been single my entire life."

"Naw, you were with Lavender that one time in sixth year, weren't you?"

"That was for less than a day, Harry. Besides…"

"'Sides what?"

I grab his mug. "She wasn't my type." I take a sip of it before setting it back down.

Harry sighs. "You suck with girls, Ron."

"I'm aware," I mutter. "Maybe you should go talk to Hermione about it. She knew all about Cho that one time, remember?"

"Yeah, but… Well, she'll rip my head off for waking her up at two in the morning—she told me specifically that I couldn't come get her after nine on weekdays, and eleven on weekends. Besides, I'd rather talk to you. You're still my best mate, you know." He coughs, and I know that cough well—and there is no way I'm going to let it continue, because that means Harry will start crying, and his tears hurt worse than my own do.

I smile sadly at him. _Best mate_. I'm sick of hearing that. I want to be more than best mates, you ninny.

"I could talk to her if you like," I say, pulling my legs up to sit them underneath me. "Ginny, I mean. I don't talk to Hermione as much as you do; I'd probably get punched in the face."

"She _has_ always been good at hitting people," Harry says with a laugh. "I feel bad for Neville."

I snort. "Harry, she wouldn't hit Neville unless she had a good reason to—and believe it or not, Hermione knows well when a reason isn't a good one. 'Sides, she's taught and helped Neville perfect so many spells they might be evenly matched now."

"Except in a fashion contest," Harry says with a grin.

I laugh. "Remember what he was wearing during the war?"

Harry nods. "I'll never forget that cardigan."

"I once overheard Hermione telling Ginny that's his sex sweater."

Harry snorts, nearly dropping the mug of coffee he picked up a bit ago. "Wow, I did not need to know that."

I grin. "Just wanted to share the burden."

Harry leans his head against the back of the couch, closes his eyes, and sighs. "Yeah, burden."

Before anything else can be said, I jump up. "Here, let's put on the music. I know you still hate all those wizard bands... How about the Beatles? I have every song."

Harry opens his eyes to smile at me. "Yeah, perfect."

I do, sitting back down at the couch and turning down the television.

The first song that comes on is "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds".

* * *

_Picture yourself in a boat on the river,  
With tangerine trees, and marmalade skies…_

"Why did you get me coffee, Ron?" Harry asks, looking down into his again-empty mug.

I smirk and hope he doesn't see it. "Because I know you're in one of your drinking-every-last-drop-I-own moods, and the last time you were in one of those moods was at your bachelor party. Being hungover at your wedding was bad enough, but going home to your wife after a week of not seeing her, drunk so that you give her a piece of your mind… I'm not _that_ stupid, Harry. It's not a good idea."

Harry smirks back. "I'm so glad I'm friends with you, Ron. Neville would let me drink every last drop, and Hermione wouldn't let me drink anything but water."

"But she knows you hate water!"

"Yeah, that's the thing. She thinks that everything you hate is good for you."

"Except country music."

Harry laughs. "Yeah, except country music. Funny how music changes everything…"

"A lot of things change everything; you know that."

The song changes to "Number 9", and I pick up the remote to skip this one. Now it's playing "Altogether Now" (considering that I just grabbed the songs off the internet and burned them randomly on a disk—yeah, I'm getting amazing at this Muggle stuff—they're in absolutely no order that makes sense except to me, and that's only because I've listened to it enough times that I've got the sequence memorized).

"Ron, what happened to me?" Harry asks, setting down his mug of coffee. I've decided not to refill it anymore. "I used to be great. People bought me candy in first year. I got free books in second year. Third year I…well, third year I almost died riding a hippogriff and found out the guy that made sure my parents got married was actually with us the entire time. I guess that one doesn't really count. Fourth year, though, I won the Triwizard Tournament. Then again, I also saw someone die, and Voldemort came back… Then in fifth year my godfather died… And in sixth year Dumbledore got killed and sealed Hogwarts fate under rule of Voldemort. Wow." He sighs. "My life got worse and worse. I guess it makes sense that I'm where I am now."

I tilt my head in confusion. "What do you mean _where you are now_?"

"Ron, I live in a Muggle neighborhood next to my bachelor best friend, the smartest wizard I've ever known, and the clutziest one. People see me in the street and hardly ever do anything but bow to me now. I mean, I'm not saying I want people showing up for my autograph like they did when Lockheart had a memory, but after eleven years of a crap life it was nice to know people actually cared about me, you know?"

"Well, all three of _us_ care about you," I say, pulling my legs up into a crisscross position so I can face him.

He looks over at me. "Three?"

"Well, me, Hermione, and Neville."

"What, no Ginny?"

"She's my sister, Harry. I couldn't figure out what she was thinking if she was telling me her feelings to my face."

"Ron, do you…I mean, have you…" He sighs. "There's something else, Ron."

I lean my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. "You mean another reason that you came over to my house in the middle of the night?"

He nods without speaking.

The song changes to "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band". I remember the first time I heard this song… I thought I was the funniest thing in the world whenever I sang "General Salt's Crowded Lung Group Singers" instead of the actual lyrics. Then I grew up and realized how stupid I was.

"What is it, mate?"

He bites his bottom lip. He didn't do that when he was younger; it was something he picked up after the war. "I think she's cheating on me."

I'm in a standing position in less than a second. "I'm going to rip her hair out."

"No!" Harry all but yells, jumping up to stand beside me. "No, it's just a hunch. I don't know for sure. She just…maybe it's just me, Ron. She seemed distant even before she left, and maybe it's just because I'm…well, I don't know, but it's probably just me." He sits back down on the couch. "Maybe we _should_ wake up Hermione."

"You listen to me, Harry James Potter," I say sternly, sitting down next to him with one of my legs bent underneath me and the other hanging off the edge so I can face him and sit even closer than regular crisscrossing. "You are the most amazing person I have ever met—and you know I ain't yankin' no chains here, since I'm still single—and if she doesn't want you anymore, she doesn't _deserve_ you anymore. She fell in love with you because you were famous, and maybe now she's falling out of love because the main part of that is over." The song changes to "Help", and I grab the remote and turn the blasted television off completely. "Though it's only been three years, so I can't imagine why. You _are_ supposed to still not be able to get enough of each other."

Harry gives a short laugh. "I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or not."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm prepared to call Hermione over right now to actually help some. She knows everything." She figured out about my feelings for Harry when we were on the run, in our seventh year. When I saw Horcrux Hermione kissing Horcrux Harry, Harry thought that I was flipping out because I wanted Hermione, even though I made it very clear that I didn't like her before then. When we told Hermione, she went along with it, but she told me later that she knew. She always noticed me looking at them. Harry thought that I was glaring at Hermione because she was allowing it…Hermione knew I was glaring at her because she was "stealing him from me".

Harry gives me a small smile. "No, I'll talk to her myself."

"Harry, tomorrow you won't be able to go anywhere with Ginny except the middle of the night anyways… We might as well wake her up tonight."

Harry purses his lips. He looks at the fireplace, at the door, and then back at me.

"Walk or Floo?" he asks.

"Floo," I say, turning the TV back on (skipping "Help") before pushing myself over to the fireplace. "She can't get to us that way."

The song had changed to "Maxwell's Silver Hammer".

**XxX**

"I swear to everything holy," Hermione growls as she steps through the fireplace and into my living room, "if you didn't catch me when I was going to the bathroom, I would have slit both of your throats. What do you want?"

"It's about Ginny," I say, turning the fire out.

Hermione's hands fly to her mouth so fast we know that she knows everything.

"Harry, how did you find out?" she asks frantically, sitting down beside him.

"We didn't find out anything…" Harry says as I sit down on his other side. "I just…I guessed."

She sighs. "I've been dropping hints to you guys for the past month about it."

"You knew?" I ask loudly.

"She told me I couldn't tell you! I've been trying to tell you anyway, but in such a way that she knew I didn't tell you... Harry, for a while, she thought that _you_ were cheating on _her_."

"What?" Harry all but screams, and both of our jaws drop.

"That's what _I_ said!" Hermione says, refilling Harry's coffee mug and then taking it for herself. "But she didn't listen to my brilliant insight, and went out and started cheating on you herself for revenge."

Harry's jaw clamps shut, and his hands ball into fists.

Hermione nods. "It's been two months now. The first month she thought she was still getting back at you, but then she found out that she had been wrong. After she got over the initial fact that she's been completely unfaithful for no real reason at all, she decided that she couldn't hurt anything anymore, so she didn't stop."

The mug explodes in Hermione's hand from Harry's raging magic, and Hermione and I instantly take each of his hands and start rubbing his shoulders. It took us years to figure out that that's the only way to calm him down.

"Ron, remember when you said you would rip her hair out?" he asks after a few minutes, his face in his hands.

"I'm on it," I say, getting into a standing position.

Hermione grabs my hand and yanks me back down, though. "Don't even think about it," she hisses. "I'm the idiot who kept it all a secret; it's my job to rip out her hair. You can dig her eyes out with a spoon."

I grin. "Harry," I say, turning to him. "If you promise not to move or break anything, we'll leave you here and come back with some of your things so you can stay here tonight."

Harry just nods, and Hermione and I go into the fireplace to Harry's house at the same time. The wards block off anyone except me, Hermione, Neville, George, Luna, my parents, Hermione's parents (not that they're ever over, but they could come if they wanted to), and Fleur Delacore for reasons I will never understand.

As much as I want to cause my sister actual pain, she happens to be my sister, so I leave Hermione to do what she pleases to her. I just pack an overnight bag for two nights into Harry's old school bag (I don't know why he kept this thing, either) before going back into the bedroom to see Hermione's masterpiece:

Ginny's still asleep in bed, with her hair dyed lime green and cut in patches. There's a mustache and a goatee drawn on her face, and purple boils spelling CHEATER across her forehead, and there's more on her neck that spell AFFAIR.

"Wow," I whisper to Hermione, who's still staring down at Ginny as well. "For you, Miss Goody Two Shoes, this is pretty intense. They're permanent, I assume?"

Hermione nods, a grin spreading across her face. "Come on," she says. "I don't want to be here when she wakes up."

**XxX**

An hour later, Hermione is back in her own house, Harry's things are set up in the bedroom (because I flat out refused to let him sleep on the couch), and we're still sitting on the couch. The Beatles are back on ("Yellow Submarine"), our coffee mugs are filled, and our feet are up on the coffee table. We already discussed our knowledge of the uselessness of our earlier fight about where we're going to sleep, since we're not going to sleep with all of this coffee in our systems anyways.

"You know what I've always wanted to do, Ron?" Harry says, sipping from his mug.

"A lot of things," I say, staring at the blank wall above the television. "Which one are you thinkin' of, though?"

"It's a more recent one—I mean, if you count three years being recent."

"I do. Please continue."

"I've always wanted to get another snowy owl and name it Hedwig Jr. I didn't because Ginny doesn't like the color white, and she hates snow. She used to like it, but then…then Fred died, and she stopped. Because they always used to have snowball fights with each other. Do you think I should go get Hedwig Jr. now?"

I look over at him with a grin. "Not now, but yeah, I think you should. And I'm going to get another rat and name him Scar. Because Scabbers was like a scab… Get it? Get it?"

Harry actually laughs. "Your jokes are even worse than mine, Ron. Do you remember my alien/plant one from sixth year?"

"Yeah," I say, chuckling. "I remember all of your dead baby jokes, too. Ginny appreciated those the least."

Harry sighs. "Yeah, I remember how little she enjoyed our humor."

"She still doesn't enjoy it, Harry. We're the most immature people she's ever met. I don't even know why she married you."

"I don't know either, Ron. Maybe for my money."

"No, she likes the finer things in life even less than I do. Or she used to, at least."

"My looks?"

I snort, even though it's one hell of a good guess. "Yeah, that might be it."

He punches me lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey, I wasn't kidding!" I say, looking over at him.

He rolls his eyes. "Maybe she just thought she was supposed to. I mean, we've technically been together since the middle of sixth year. I've heard of that plenty of times, that people are together so long that they just think they're supposed to."

"Harry…" I hate to say this, but I've got to. It's the truth, anyway. "She married you because she loved you. The only reason she started cheating on you was because she thought you were cheating on her, and even then her heart wasn't really in the whole not-loving you thing. It was a gradual downhill love because of a misunderstanding on her part. I bet if you go talk to her about it she'll stop…" You should have married me. I wouldn't have thought you were cheating on me, and even if you were I wouldn't go out and get revenge for it...

Harry snorts. "As if I even _want_ her back. Anybody who cheats on their spouse for revenge and then doesn't stop when they find out they're wrong doesn't deserve anybody."

"Yes, because this exact situation happens so often."

"I'm sure it does."

* * *

_Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you  
Been here all along so why can't you see  
You belong with me..._

_Standin' by you, waitin' at your back door  
All this time how could you not know baby  
You belong with me  
You belong with me  
You belong with me..._

* * *

_Have you ever thought just maybe  
You belong with me…_

"Hey, Harry?"

"I'm still here, Ron."

"I think you should try and get some sleep. Ginny will wonder where you are in the morning, and you want to be rested when she comes over looking for you, because we both know she'll come here first."

He sighs. "Don't your wards block everybody but Hermione and I?"

"And George."

"Right, so, she can't get in anyway, right?"

"No, she always gets in. I don't know how, but she does. So I've given up trying to block her out."

He sighs again. "Oh, al_righ_t, I'll go to bed."

We both walk back to the bedroom. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the floor, and then crawls under the blankets without changing his shorts, pulling the blankets up to his waist and then pulling his knees up to his chest.

I start to leave the room, but he speaks first: "Maybe I should forgive her."

So I turn around and sit beside his knees, close enough that I could count how many hairs on his chin that he needs to shave—which are a lot, I might add.

"Look, it's your marriage," I say, pulling one of my own knees up onto the bed. It's a very childlike position, but considering that I liked my childhood a hell of a lot better than my adult life…well, I think I'll get over looking like one every once in a while. "You can talk to her about it and figure out her motives, and if they're good then you should probably get a divorce because she doesn't want you anymore. If they're bad, you can get a divorce because she's just using you. But, in the case that you guys work something out, you can go on living a marriage that you know has been tainted—meaning you should still get a divorce."

Harry sighs. "The thing is, if we do that, the Prophet will be _all over_ us. We'll be the talk of everything for months..."

"Well, you did want to be famous again."

Harry's eyes narrow slightly, and then he snorts. "I don't know, Ron, but I'm glad I have you. You don't just tell me what I want to hear, you know? Hermione tells me what I need to hear in such a way that it sounds like what I want to hear, Neville tells me everything I want to hear, Luna doesn't make sense anyways, and George jokes about everything so it sounds like the exact opposite of what I want to hear even if it's exactly what I want to hear. You, on the other hand…you tell me whatever the hell I _should_ hear."

"I'm pretty sure all of the others would tell you about your needing to divorce Ginny, too, though…"

"Not in the way you did it."

"How would they do it?"

"Well, this might be a little of a different situation for Hermione now… But she would regularly tell me something about needing to talk it through before doing anything irrational. Neville would say what are you talking about you guys are perfect together because he doesn't catch anything. Luna would change the subject to nargles, and then George over here would joke about whomever Ginny was cheating on me with. You just told me that Ginny sucks anyway."

I laugh. "Well, yes, I suppose that's what I said."

"It's a good thing I live next to you, Ron. I can't even picture going and talking to Fleur about my marriage. She'd tell me something about needing a counselor. I hate those guys."

"I don't even know why you're friends with her, you know. You could have been friends with Viktor Krum—_Viktor Krum_, Harry!—and you chose Miss Priss."

"She's not a priss, Ron. You didn't see her old house. I mean, her parents house, before she moved in with Bill. Her family doesn't own any house elves, and nobody liked to clean. She might have looked nice on the outside, but the inside of her house was atrocious. I saw pictures."

"Hmph," I mutter. "The inside of Bill's house is always immaculate whenever I'm over there."

"It's called growing up, Ron."

"You met her when she was seventeen!"

"What, and we haven't grown up since seventeen at all?"

"We're barely twenty, Harry. You're not even twenty-hours into the second day of no longer being a teenager."

"Psh," Harry says, waving me off. "Not the point."

"You're right. The point is you need to go to sleep. So goodnight."

He sighs. "Yeah, alright, whatever. Night."

I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, and then slide off of the bed and head off towards the couch so I can keep watching television.

"Ron…?" Harry asks behind me.

"Yeah?" I ask, turning around.

He's got his hand on his cheek, right where I… Oh no. Merlin, I did not. No, no, no. I've kept it secret from him for nearly seven years. Nearly everybody else figured it out, and even _they_ kept it secret. And here I go, blowing it all in one night. Fuck.

"What was that?" he asks quietly.

I blink at him, turn to the wall, and then back to him. "A kiss goodnight?"

"Yeah, you…you kissed me."

"Well what did you expect? Hot chocolate and tucking you in? I'm letting you stay here, not adopting you."

He just keeps staring at me, so I shrug and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Dear Merlin," I mutter to myself, sinking into the couch. I turn the Beatles off, and then down what's left in both of the coffee mugs—and I completely forget a warming charm, I might add, so they're disgusting. I kick my feet up on the couch on the turn an actual show on, but I'm not really watching it.

Aside from the fact that I'm a total idiot, I'm pathetic. Harry happens to still be married, no matter the fact that he'll probably end it anyway.

I lay there for what seems like hours, not falling asleep thanks to all this stupid coffee in my system.

There's the sound of a door clicking open on the other side of the couch, and I'm too lazy to push myself up into a sitting position.

"Ron?" Harry's voice asks quietly. "Are you still awake?"

"We drank too much coffee," I say, a lazy smile on my lips.

He walks around the side of the couch that my feet are on, so I see that he's dressed in his regular pajamas: grey sweats that are too big for him. He also has the main blanket of my bed wrapped around his shoulders.

"Anything good on?" he asks, walking over to stand beside my face.

"I don't know," I say, tossing the remote down at my feet. "I'm not really watching it. Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, it's about five." He sits down in front of me, leaning against the couch with his shoulder so he can look at both the television and me.

"Bed not comfortable?" I ask, realizing for the first time that I'm on a channel for toddlers.

"I don't like sleeping alone," Harry says quietly.

"I'm used to it." Hey, this stuff is actually pretty good. These colorful dragons don't look anything like real ones, and they're kind of fat…but for a Muggle thing, it's pretty creative.

"Ron, how long?" Harry asks, looking straight at me.

I look at him with a cocked eyebrow. "How long have I liked kid shows? I don't know, I didn't even know it was on."

He just keeps blinking at me.

I sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to him. "You have really pretty eyes, you know that?"

"Yeah, I've been told. How long, Ron?"

I press my lips into a straight line. How long has it been? A long time. That's how long it's been. "I don't remember," I say. "Third or fourth year. I was too young to understand anything in first and second…"

Harry's face doesn't change even a bit. "About seven years, then. Wow, that's the equivalent to how long we were in school together…"

Very insightful of you, Harry. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Don't be sorry. Hey, do you mind if we trade sleeping spots?"

I blink at him. That's it? Seven years of love and he asks me if he can sleep on the couch? "Yeah, sure," I say, sitting up. "I'm going to use the bathroom out there first, though. I don't like the one in there."

"Yeah, okay. Sleep well."

I walk around him, leaving the television on. I go into the bathroom, and I nearly forget to actually use the toilet. I just…I don't know, I thought he'd at least be mad at me for not telling him.

When I exit the bathroom, the television is off and Harry isn't on the couch. Huh. He must have went to use the bedroom bathroom.

I walk into the bedroom and flick on the electric, and my brain completely stops except for my vision of my bed. Harry's sitting in the middle of the bed, the blanket he was wearing spread back over the comforter and pulled up to his waist, bunched up to his naval. He's staring at me with a small smile, and his hands are folded and set on top of the blanket over his lap.

I look at him, towards the living room, and then back at him.

"Wait, wait, wait," I say, walking to the edge of the bed.

"Wait for what?" he asks quietly.

"You're…I mean, you're… Harry, you're married."

"Ron, I was thinking… I don't care if I've only been married to Ginny for three years, and I don't care if her reasons for cheating on me were justified. That's the same thing as saying that you lied to someone because they didn't deserve to know the truth. You're not supposed to do that to people—and you're especially not supposed to do that to your husband or wife. The vows specifically said to be faithful until the end of our days, and I don't think she did that very well. Besides, she's not the same Ginny that I fell in love with…" He looks down at his hands. "I don't want to be with her anyway."

I sit down on the edge of the bed. "But won't you be cheating on her being with…being with me?" Merlin, it feels weird to say that…

"In a sense, it would be," he says, not looking back up at me. "But you happen to have a fireplace, and you didn't hear me go back to my house."

I blink at him. "You left? When?

He nods. "When you were out on the couch. Ginny was still asleep, and I must admit, I approve. It's permanent, right?"

"Of course."

"Right, well, I left a note on the cell phone that I got her all those years ago. It still works like new, thanks to our repairing charms, and she checks it every morning because we don't have a clock in our room. I just wrote on a Sticky Note that I found out and I'm leaving her and stuck it to her screen. I didn't explain anything; I can do that tomorrow. You might want to make your wards extra strong tonight…"

I pull out my wand and turn the Floo completely off, and then use my spell that locks all the doors and windows. "There, it's all good. Not even Hermione will get in."

"Are you sure she won't try and get past your locking charms?"

"No, if she can't get into my house through the Floo she goes to Hermione first. Besides, she wouldn't dare go out into the open looking like she does."

Harry looks up from his hands. "I've thought about this before, you know. Not being cheated on my Ginny, but just…this. It was only once, though, because I refused to think that I was gay any longer or that you could even possible like me back."

I blink at him. "You…did?"

He nods.

Without another word, I crawl across the bed towards him, and I will never again be happier that I forced myself to change out of my jeans and into my pajamas in case I fell asleep in front of the television. He takes his hands out of his lap and puts them beside him, leaning back on them.

"You're not going to regret this, are you?" I ask, my lips hardly an inch away from his. "You haven't secretly been drinking or something?"

He shakes his head no.

So I close the gap between us, pressing my lips lightly against his. I never would have guessed it, but he tastes like cherries and…peaches. Not my regular fruity combination, but on him it's beautiful.

"Do you love me, Ron?" Harry asks, lifting his arms so that he's lying down on the bed and our lips are separated.

"Yeah," I say, crawling completely over him so that my knees are on either side of his waist, and my hands on either side of his head. "Since that third or fourth year. I didn't even like you first…I loved you right away." I won't ask if he loves me. He's loved Ginny for nearly the last four years; he won't love me.

I lean down to kiss him again, but he lifts a hand and presses a finger against my lips before I can.

"Can I love you?"

I tilt my head in confusion. "What do you mean _can_ you?"

"I mean, when all of this is over—this as in Ginny and I—I don't want to make Ginny go live with her parents. Can I…could I just stay here? With you?"

I almost forget to answer. I'm too busy kissing him.

"Of course you can," I say who knows how long later. "You can stay here forever."

I pull away to see his face, and he's smiling brightly at me. "I plan to."

_You belong with me..._

_**The End**_

* * *

References: All of the jokes in here aren't mine. The first one (the alien/plant one) I actually got form a video game called Pajama Sam: There's No Need to Hide When It's Dark Outside. Most amazing game series ever. It's for ages 5 to 8, but after Kirby: Squeak Squad and Kirby's Epic Yarn, it's my most played video game. No regrets, guise.  
Also, I can't deny that I think dead baby jokes are hilarious...sorry guys. And the racist and Holocaust jokes? That doesn't mean that I'm racist or against Jewish people; I even have an anti-racist shirt and wear it proudly around school, and one of my friends is Jewish. And considering that I'm bisexual and I used to cut myself, I accept pretty much everybody (I say pretty much because I disapprove of anybody who doesn't accept everybody, so if you're against gays/colored people/etc, go fuck yourself). So I'm really sorry if those offended you at all!

End A/N: 1. None of the songs or bands mentioned in this fic (besides the Beatles) really exists. Or, more appropriately, I just chose the most random names I could think of. So I might have chose actual song titles, and I may have accidentally "made up" some real bands. If that's the case, I apologize. It wasn't at all my intention.

2. Beatles songs mentioned in this fic (not in order of mentioned—sorry if I missed any!): "Nowhere Man", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", "Altogether Now", "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", "Yellow Submarine", "Number 9", "Help", "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"

3. Also, the Beatles are my favorite band, so if you don't like them you can go fuck yourself again.

4. P.S. I'm kind of rude you're just going to have to live with that ehhah


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